Jon-Jon's Bizarre Adventure
by jeses
Summary: When an evil band director threatens to take over an entire town, can these heroes stop him once and for all? Follow Fabian "Jon-Jon" Padiller, Smeetwagon, Booby Hon!, Thurman, and many more lovable characters on their quest that spans generations. (a loose rip off of JoJo's Bizarre Adventure with people from band.)
1. Chapter 1 : Gooje Spock-um Crash

"Is da legend true?"

Kenneth Thurman, a pudgy man of about 45, looked up from his desk. In front of him stood Fabian "Jon-Jon" Padiller, the second chair baritone player of the Ingleside High School Band.

"What?" Kenneth spat, a very obvious sneer splayed across his face. It was no secret that Kenneth hated the dumb, possibly mentally challenged baritone player.

"Someone told me there was a baritone, and if, you, like, play the baritone, you become, like, a vampire or something."

Kenneth sighed and rubbed his bald head in annoyance.

"You're crazy if you think that. Go get a pass from the office. You're tardy."

"But Mr. 'Durmen.. it only 8:01."

"Did I stutter?"

Fabian turned and left the office. He knew it had to be true. Instead of listening to the fat band director, Fabian went into the musty, small band hall across the way. Completely ignoring Mrs. Hon's questions of why he was interrupting her class, he crossed the band hall and stopped at the locked door. Upon finding it locked, Fabian brute forced the metal handle until it was bent enough for him to enter. Pushing his way into the music room, dubbed the Instrument Graveyard, his big dumb brown eyes scanned the area. The lights in the asbestos filled room flickered almost menacingly, the cracked beige tiles seemingly glowing under the fluorescent lights.

Stomping his way into the stanky room, Fabian absent-mindedly crushed every single instrument in his way. There, settled in the corner of the Instrument Graveyard, was the mysterious baritone he'd heard so much about. The case which held the baritone was engraved intricately with whimsical patterns. Since Fabian was such an idiot and could be distracted by anything, the wooden box in front of him was no exception.

"Fabian! Go to the office for not listening to pregnant me!" Mrs. Hon's voice rang out in Fabian's ears. Registering her shouting as white noise, Fabian pushed her out of the way and left the Instrument Graveyard. Returning to the large band hall, he took his seat next to Ethan "Smeetwagon" Meer. Meer, or as he preferred, Smeetwagon, was the first chair baritone player of the Ingleside Band.

"Why are you late?" Smeetwagon asked, little chunks of chewed food flying out as he did. Fabian was completely oblivious to the remnants of Cheetos and microwaved hot dog now on display across his face.

"Like.. Mr. Turmen said that the baritone in the Instrument Grabeyard wasn't, like, magic or whatever."

Smeetwagon laughed obnoxiously, acting as if he wasn't as dumb as Fabian.

"You big dumb Fabian. A magical baritone? You stupid."

Fabian felt patronized at Smeetwagon's insults. Smeetwagon was continuing to laugh at Fabian's absurd claim of a magic baritone when Mr. Thurman began to yell at them.

"Padiller! Meer! Get off your phones and learn your music!" His voice boomed across the band hall.

"Sowwy.." Smeetwagon said, his laughter ceasing.

"If you don't believe me, meet me after school in the Instrument Graveyard, and, like, I'll show you the baritone, or whatever," Fabian explained, ignorant to Thurman's glare.

"Fine, you big stupid."

Unbeknownst to Fabian or Smeetwagon, a short and pudgy man with a goatee sat nearby having heard everything.

In that moment, he knew that the two mentally handicapped boys were the ones to defeat Thurman.


	2. Chapter 2: Hon-mon

As soon as the shrill and obnoxious bell rang, Fabian rushed from his twice repeated Algebra I class and to the band hall. He didn't seem to notice the three helpless freshmen he trampled in his hurry and instead focused on his baritone theory.

Waiting impatiently outside the band hall stood Smeetwagon, drinking a flat Diet Dr. Pepper from a faded plastic bottle. Fabian could only assume the bottle had been sitting in Smeetwagon's shitty old red Mustang for weeks or even months.

"Awright," Smeetwagon said. "Where is de baritone?"

"Man, I told you to wait in the Instrument Graveyard, like, come on," Fabian sighed.

"Whateva. You lucky I came."

Fabian pushed past Smeetwagon's lard mass and into the smaller bndhall. The door of the Instrument Graveyard was still slightly parted from his run-in earlier. Carelessly entering the room, both of the boys were surprise at the man sitting atop the mystical case.

"So.. you boys know of the cursed baritone."

"Who de hell are you?" Smeetwagon asked defensively.

"You can call me Bobby! Bobby Hon!"

With an attempt of a grand gesture, the chubby man leaped from the case. His landing was anything but, the remnants of broken cases from Fabian's earlier rampage littering the floor. He fell to the ground, letting out a groan of pain.

"I'm okay! Give me a second to get up."

Watching pitifully as Bobby Hon! tried to get up, the two absolute units did nothing to help.

"Besides that.. you're right about this baritone. If you play it, something weird will happen. It happened to my wife, Katie. Katie was normal until we came to Ingleside. I have a feeling Kenneth is behind this all."

The two boys needed a second to process everything before Bobby Hon! continued.

"The only way to defeat Kenneth is an ancient form of breathing called hamon, or as I like to call it, "Hon-mon," the tubby, short man chuckled. The joke flew completely over Fabian and Smeetwagon's under developed heads.

"At least, I think that's the only way.."

Fabian, processing Bobby Hon's! presence as useless, picked the tubby man up by his squishy belly and tossed him carelessly into the wall.

"Like I was saying, the baritone's, like, cursed or something."

Opening the case, ignoring Bobby Hon's gasps of pain, Fabian and Smeetwagon laid their eyes upon the baritone. Both Fabian and Smeetwagon seemed underwhelmed at the sight of it.

Laid to rest in a faux red velvet case, the Instrument itself was very dull. To a person of average intelligence, the engravings sprawled across the faded and tarnished brash would have been a marvel to see.

But to our three heroes with below average intelligence, caused maybe by heir mothers drinking with them in the wombs, it was nothing more than scratches.

"Damn, this is it?" Fabian spoke gruffly.

"It's fuckin' ugly, man."

A seemingly menacing and cool aura suddenly filled the small asbestos infected room.

"What are you yay-hoos doin' in my band hall?" A petrifying voice laced with a Southern drawl echoed throughout the area. Upon turning to see the Kenneth Thurman himself, the three man boys studied the terrifying look on his face.

"You don't have to go home.. but you can't stay here."

Bobby Hon!, having recovered from his incident with Fabian, quickly grabbed ahold of the two man-boys' hands and pulled them from the Instrument Graveyard. Leading them to the picnic tables located outside the band hall, Kenneth locked the doors behind them.

"Man, what a dumbass!" Fabian laughed. Lifting up his oddly muscular while also flabby pouch of skin, he pulled out the baritone in question. The aroma of sweat and Pitbull's signature cologne wafted out.

"I'm gonna take this baritone to practice tonight, and, like, play it instead of my baritone."

Smeetwagon couldn't hide his grin. "Great idea!"

"No!" Bobby Hon shrieked, the two boys jumping. "You're insane if you think playing this baritone is a good idea. We don't even know what will happen!"

With a look of defiance or maybe confusion, Smeetwagon spoke one simple word.

"Gib."

Taking the baritone from Fabian's greasy sausage fingers, Smeetwagon pulled a mouthpiece from his belly button and placed it in the horn. Putting it to his mouth and taking a deep breath as Mr. Thurman had taught them, he suddenly let out a horrible blast of sound. The tinny, metallic sound echoed underneath the overhang. Glass could be heard breaking nearby, a beacon of light shooting out from the horn's bell.

"Smeetwagon!" Bobby Hon! shouted as the big boy across from him collapsed. All sound ceased as he seemed to fall in slow motion. The baritone was stuck to his face.

"You good, bro?" Fabian quizzed, Bobby Hon! giving him a look of annoyance.

"Obviously not! God, this is awful."

The baritone finally released Smeetwagon's embouchure, falling to the ground with a clang. The birds had stopped chirping. It was dead silent.

Fabian, not realizing the danger he was in by picking up the baritone, did exactly so.

"Fabian! Put it down," Bobby Hon! urged, tears pricking his eyes. They'd already lost Smeetwagon.

With no hesitation, lifting the baritone up, Fabian put the cursed baritone up to his chapped lips. Bobby Hon! could only watch in horror as the dumb Pitbull lookalike blasted out a note. This note was much louder and obnoxious and ear drum shredding than Smeetwagon's. The bright light consumed Fabian's vision, his body feeling weightless. And then, as if at the snap of a finger, it all went black.


	3. Chapter 3: Lessons With Bobby Hon!

Seeing Fabian wake up was certainly a surprise to Smeetwagon and Bobby Hon!. Not long after Fabian had taken his turn at the magic baritone and seemingly passed out, Smeetwagon had risen to his feet to the comfort of Bobby Hon!. Using Smeetwagon's big boy strength, Bobby Hon! and the boy carried Fabian to the SmeetMobile, or the dingy old red Mustang Smeetwagon drove. They'd attempted to fit the large, flabby yet muscular boy in the back of the small vehicle and found it quite hard. Through all of this, they somehow managed to fit him partially in the Mustang. Fabian's jiggly leg hung out of the passenger's side window.

"Bobby Hon! Do you think he gonna wake up ever?" Smeetwagon asked a little nervously as he took his seat behind the steering wheel. Bobby Hon! was already waiting in the passenger's seat for the driver.

"I hope so. I'm worried we can't defeat Thurman without him.."

"Why you want to fight Thurman?"

Bobby Hon! sighed and looked out the window at the large water filled pothole next to the SmeetMobile.

"When Katie and I first moved here, it was so great. Until we met Kenneth. From the first day, I knew he was an awful man. Katie knew something was off, too. I told her she should've taught in Portland instead of Ingleside. But she was already signed in a contract with Ingleside and in order to protect her, I took my job as an Algebra I teacher here in Ingleside. One day, after a Monday Night Rehearsal, I saw Thurman sucking her blood and she started acting different. Saying Kenneth would be the one to save us from God's wrath and other absurd things like that. She's stopped going to church with me and won't come with me to visit our family.. I'm so worried about her."

Sometime during Bobby Hon!'s story, Fabian had awoken from his baritone-induced slumber.

"What de' hell?" Smeetwagon asked, Bobby Hon! turning to see the now conscious absolute unit laying across the back of the Mustang.

"Fabian! You're awake!" Bobby Hon! cried, tears glazing over his eyes. Wordlessly sitting up, his leg still remaining stuck out the window, he dug around in his pocket before taking out his travel sized official Pitbull cologne for men. Spritzing his wrists, underarms, and face before one final spray down his now open mouth and swallowing with not even a flinch, Fabian put the perfume back.

"Damn. My breath smells like ass! Like, what the fuck was I doing before?" Fabian spoke loudly.

"Stupid! You don't eat de cologne! Not safe!" Smeetwagon scolded Fabian. Ignoring the long haired mass sitting in the front seat, Bobby Hon! began to speak.

"I've been watching you for a while, Fabian. You've been in my Algebra I class for the last three years in a row. I know you have what it takes to learn Hamon and defeat Thurman!"

"What? Man, slow down! I don't get what you're saying. What the fuck is a hamon?" Fabian spoke, just then acknowledging the tubby man who had been with them for the last hour or so.

"Hamon is an ancient form of breathing that lets you produce an energy that manifests as ripples!" Bobby Hon! grinned, Fabian staring with a blank look on his face.  
"I'll teach you like an algebra lesson! But first, Smeetwagon! We have to go somewhere away from Thurman. I'll give you the directions."

Smeetwagon took no time in warning his two passengers of their now sudden departure. Peeling out of the parking lot and nearly hitting a few junior high kids on the way out, they were on their way.

* * *

The ride to where Bobby Hon! was taking them took no less than five minutes. Combined with Smeetwagon's driving and Bobby Hon!'s location being fairly close, the three boys soon found themselves at..

The Ingleside Skate Park.

"This is where I'll train you in hamon, Fabian!" Bobby Hon! smiled, while reminiscing on his time training in hamon. "Smeetwagon, I need you to go to the Dollar Store and pick us up some food."

Throwing a twenty dollar bill the way of Smeetwagon, Bobby Hon! helped Fabian's absolute size out of the SmeetMobile and to the best Hamon training place of all. Leading him by the hand much like a mother with her toddler, Bobby Hon! made their way past the fence near where the rickety old wooden bridge scrawled with graffiti was. Turning sharply and crossing the drainage ditch, they soon found it..

Passing beneath the railroad tracks, as if some kind of little overhang, was a small stream. Filled with used needles, burnt tin foil, and the remnants of a Nintendo 64, Bobby Hon! came to know this place as the Crack Den. It would be the perfect place for training such a soon to be hamon master. His time training in hamon was in a place similar to this.

"So, like, what do I do?" Fabian asked the math teacher standing in front of him. They were both ankle deep in stagnant rainwater that had washed under here with the last thunderstorm.

"First, you have to know how to breathe correctly. Hamon is based on breathing! I'll teach you. Watch this!" Bobby Hon! explained, before punching Fabian in his gut with his pinky raised. Sparks seem to fly when Bobby Hon!'s fist slammed into Fabian.  
Knocking all of the air out of Fabian's puny lungs, he felt a little hurt that his own Algebra I teacher would do this to him.

"You won't be able to breathe for a little. But that's okay! I've hit your diaphragm with my pinky so you can breathe like a hamon user."

Fabian was in pure agony. He felt pissed off and betrayed at what Bobby Hon! had done to him. He couldn't even form words at the sheer amount of pain that rippled through his insides.

"Wow! You have so much hamon coming from you right now. I can already tell you're going to be a master in no time!"

After recovering from Bobby Hon!'s attack, the two spent what felt like hours in the Crack Den. Fabian learned quickly how to use hamon to an adequate level. It seemed to be the only thing he could ever learn without needing to take the course a few times over. But it was getting closer and closer to rehearsal, which began at 6:30 pm. Smeetwagon also returned with almost twenty dollars worth of food, plus a little toy here and there he shoplifted for fun. The food he'd picked up consisted mostly of whole wheat Saltines, a jar of coconut oil, a few cans of Tiny Shrimp, and a gallon of chocolate milk that had expired a few weeks prior. The three boys shared their dinner inside the Crack Den, before finally packing up. As they left, they passed a guy getting sucked off for meth. The three couldn't help but laugh at the silly couple engaging in such activities.

"To be young again," Bobby Hon! said longingly with a look of adoration before they returned to the SmeetMobile. Climbing in and making the tight squeeze, Fabian felt.. Confused. But it was okay. He seemed to be a good hamon user, and he hoped by doing this would make his father proud.

Anything for his dad.

* * *

Notes :

If you haven't read or watched JoJo, hamon will be really weird and confusing. According to the JoJo wiki, this is the description of hamon.

"The Ripple (hamon) is an energy identical to the Sun's rays, which the human body can produce through controlled breathing, having the effect of producing ripples of energy propagating from the bloodstream to the rest of the body and other objects in contact with it. The Ripple manifests itself as electricity-like sparks, and it can be seen by ordinary humans."

If you haven't seen JoJo then this is just a shameless plug for me to tell you to WATCH IT it's so much better than this shitty story I promise you


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